


Hello Sunshine

by abelrunner5



Category: The Walk (Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Other, POV Second Person, Walker And Stanton Finally Get A Goddamn Break, a lot of fluff, spoilers for episode 51, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9266933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abelrunner5/pseuds/abelrunner5
Summary: Because sometimes, a vacation to somewhere warm and bright is just what you need.





	

You decide to go on vacation despite the AI still crammed inside the back of your skull.

A stupid, reckless idea? Probably. A good, _very_ much needed idea? Most definitely.

Stanton - or, sorry, you should really start calling her Elizabeth - is the one who booked the tickets, and you weren’t going to say  _no_ , not after all the trouble she went through to get them on such short notice and the way she looked at you with that rare, sparkling glint in her eye. 

So, now you and her are lounging on a beach on the south coast of Spain; the Mediterranean sea sprawling in front of you, the hot, sweltering sun above you, the buzz of community around you and hints of salt and citrus in the air. Here, the past doesn’t exist. Here, Charlie is quiet and the memory of Soleil and everything else is less demanding. The edges of grief are a little more supple in this place. Here, you can both just ... relax. Maybe for the first time in years.

She still calls you Walker. You have a real name, a different name, but it has been buried underneath your past so much that you’ve decided fuck it, Walker it stays. You like it. It makes you feel like yourself, _really_ you, somehow, and it makes you feel brave.

“Hey, Walker, pass the orange juice,” she says, looking at you from underneath a brimmed straw hat and dark sunglasses. You dig it out from the red-and-orange bag behind your towel and hand it to her. 

“Here,” you say, smiling a little as your hands brush. She takes a swig as she continues to pour over  _Gone Girl._ You, yourself, keep reading the paper you picked up earlier - it’s in Spanish, but you’re fluent - and sigh. A good sigh, really. This is it. This is everything you wanted after those months of walking and running, of hiding and high-pitched shrieks, of stinging blisters and getting mud in places a person should _not_ get mud, the slam of Aaron's body against the ground and the way Lawrence-

No. You promised yourself you would try to stop thinking about it. At least while you’re here. You promised you’d deal with it eventually, but right now, you’re on vacation, Walker, remember?

Elizabeth suddenly shuts her book closed and turns her head towards you, eyes wide. You flinch a little, instincts on alert, but then she smiles and you loosen your shoulders. “Want to go for a - a - a -window--” She breathes in.  “--a swim, Walker?”

You grin and kick off your flip-flops. “Race you to the water!” You jump up, and you start to sprint.

“Hey! Not fair! You had a head start!” But she’s gaining on you. You see her in the corner of your eye. Damn it, she’s fast!

The cool water grazes your ankles. It splashes your knees and tickles your arms as you wade deeper into the sparkling sea. Elizabeth touches your shoulder, then, breathing hard. “It’s a tie!”

“A tie? I totally won! I got here first!”

“No, you didn’t, I was right next to you the whole time,” she says as she bumps her hip with yours. You grumble in response, and splash her with the cool ocean water.

She yelps a little as it reaches her neck, and you stand up, stretching your shoulders as you gaze out at the sailboats in the horizon.

You got distracted. What feels like a tidal wave collides with your collarbones and then your cheeks and you splutter. “Hey! Not cool, Stanton, I wasn’t ready!”

“Payback, Walker. You ready now?” She has that competitive, ‘I am going to kick your ass’ look in her eye, and you swallow. She splashes and you dodge blindly, a laugh sitting on the back of your throat. You splash her back, and her hair is sticking to her forehead and her cheeks are pink and you can’t help but feel yourself go all warm. Feel your defences crack as you and her just – you just play this silly, dumb game and you’re both smiling and moving and oh god, it feels so … simple. Like puzzle pieces finally clicking together. Like a heavy weight being clutched tightly, and then let go. Like maybe you are human, maybe you will be okay, maybe you can finally drop your guard for more than three minutes.

She totally wins the splash-fight, of course. It’s Wing-Commander Stanton we’re talking about here.

So, after that first day on the beach, you both start to let your defences down. Not totally – the past won’t leave just because you’re on vacation - but it’s not constantly at the forefront. You eat cereal in the morning and don’t rush to leave the house. Elizabeth cooks you dinner; pasta with fresh clams and white wine. Watermelon slices for dessert. You sleep with the windows open, letting the sound of the ocean calm you, its breeze lull you into a heavy slumber. Your cheeks hurt from smiling at Stanton’s dry jokes. Your skin – and hers, too – now smells like sunscreen and salt. Like orange juice and linen. The sun is everything, here, and you wish you could bottle it up and bring it back home. It brings out the freckles on Stanton’s face. You go to a local museum with her, and gaze for hours at the paintings of people you’ve never heard of. You pocket brochures and buy Stanton a notebook with a painting of the ocean and rolling, yellow hills on it.

You and Stanton go out dancing, once, and you both get too drunk on _sangr_ _ia_ to remember the fact that dancing has never been either of your strong suites.  It doesn’t matter, really, because the lights are low, the music is lovely and no one here knows who you are, anyway. And that is good. You’ve never seen Elizabeth smile so much, and as you leave the bar and watch the sky break into shades of purple and pink, you pick a dew-covered rose and place it in her hair.

She smiles, bright.

Here, you are okay. Here, the past and the future are blurred. Here, you are at peace.  


End file.
